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Unlike his fireballing predecessor, the late William S. Knudsen, C.E. hates to make snap decisions, likes to sleep on the hard ones. He seldom relaxes. When he does, he likes to tell stories from his vast fund of them, though his wife Jessie sometimes protests: "Oh Erwin, not that one again!" One of his favorites is about two Englishwomen who were being chauffeur-driven around Detroit in a G.M. limousine. Someone touched a hydraulic window-lift button by mistake, and the glass partition dropped, letting in a blast of air that billowed up the guests' skirts. "Gracious!" cried one, "don't you Americans ever do anything by hand?"
Beef & Peanuts. Wilson drives his own Cadillac in from Longmeadow, his rambling fieldstone house on Island Lake, Mich., burning up the highway like a preoccupied Barney Oldfield. Longmeadow is comfortably livable, with garage room for five G.M. cars and wall space for scores of pictures of the Wilson farms, horses, cattle, their six married sons & daughters and ten grandchildren.
At home, C.E. is up at 7 for a quick shower, breakfast and a chat with his wife. "It's about the only time I ever get to talk with Erwin," she says. When it comes to food, her husband is easily pleased; his favorites are chipped beef or salted peanuts, or both, any time of day. The Wilsons gave up most entertaining long ago; if C.E. showed up at functions at all, he was late, and loaded with work.
A month ago, on C.E.'s promise to be home without fail, Jessie ordered engraved invitations for their first big party in four years. A few days before it was to be given, C.E. called her from the office and told her she would have to give it alone. He had been asked to go to Germany for ECA and report back on what should be done with German plants. Mrs. Wilson called off the party, packed a suitcase with chipped beef and peanuts, and went with him. (She thriftily considered scratching out the date on the invitations for possible future use. The engraver didn't think it would "look right for Mrs. Wilson to do that," so she gave up the idea.)
Spills & Falls. Motormaker Wilson is a cattle breeder (Ayrshires), and at Windrow Farms, 20 miles from Longmeadow, has the largest private herd in Michigan. He used to play a fast game of tennis, still fishes and hunts occasionally, and is a good swimmer. He gave up ice skating after breaking his hip in a fall, and reluctantly gave up riding to hounds with the Bloomfield Open Hunt after breaking his shoulder in a spill from a balky hunter.
Now he gets his exercise by hiking through G.M. plants, where he enjoys listening to the syncopated rhythm of the production line. While walking some guests through Chevrolet's forge plant recently, he stopped to watch a young Negro feed long, red-hot rods into a machine which twisted them into knee-action coil springs. "Look," Wilson nudged a visitor. "He's going to let the rods pile up to show us how fast he can work. See how he gives the ends a little twist? He's our best man on this job because he's got rhythm in his soul." Then, admiringly, Wilson stepped up and told him so.